What Was it Worth?
by Aesthete II
Summary: Kalos is spared Lysandre's wrath, no thanks to X and his friends. But it doesn't feel right. None of it does. Why does he feel still feel so conflicted? They stopped the bad guy, didn't they? One shot.


**What Was it Worth?**

* * *

There was no easy way to describe the way the boy was feeling.

He was surrounded by at best ignorance, at worst complete apathy. Nobody here seemed to know, and even if they did, likely didn't care about the atrocities planned the man being laid to rest had in store for the world.

Even Malva - the woman who had Kalos' media presence wrapped tightly around her meticulously manicured fingers - was present. Though now wheelchair bound as a result of her horribly botched attempt to save her leader as he plummeted to his death, but still a free woman nonetheless.

Truth be told, X didn't want to attend Lysandre's funeral. If anything, he knew it would probably drive him up a wall if he saw the man who was not only responsible for the destruction of his hometown of Vaniville, but led him and his friends into the most stress filled days of their lives.

The man who envisioned a genocide to keep the world 'beautiful' - as he so described it - and did _absolutely all _in his power to make it a reality. Had it not been for the efforts of him and his friends…

That's what irked him the most. His group's short visit to Lumiose City shortly after Lysandre's short embrace with the ground only soured him further. Nobody cared about what they had just done for Kalos - for the world, and this funeral… held for the man who wanted nothing more than to see all of them dead in the name of his skewed vision didn't help put the young man's thoughts into the ground.

"You alright, X?"

X blinked, suddenly facing the short haired brunette speaking to him. Like him, she too was dressed appropriately for the burial: a simple black dress with a matching overcoat. Something to match with, literally everyone else present.

X sheepishly adjusted his tie, catching his breath before finally speaking up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine." He lied, looking back over at the casket that held the lanky ginger's lifeless body.

Y frowned. He wasn't.

"You can't lie to me, X," Y said.

She stared at him for several seconds, breathing heavily before glancing down towards the ground herself.

The pair stood in place silently, watching solemnly as people trudged up the aisle to pay their respects to the fallen Lysandre. Some they recognized, like Lysandre's old colleague Sycamore, and his closest, Malva. Others, such as Valerie and Drasna, needed a bit of some deeper memory digging to recall who they even were.

"You know," X whispered after an extended period of silence, "it's only been two weeks. Maybe they're still in shock? Denial?"

He looked around, making sure no one else had overheard him.

"I know it sounds dumb, Y… but…"

"It's fine, X. It doesn't make much sense to me either," Y matched her friend's hushed tone, "they'll always be like this, I guess. Not that what we did wasn't for the best, or that we _shouldn't _have done it…"

Emotions stirred in the boy's stomach like one of Siebold's stirring up a dish He felt Y's hand on his shoulder, looking over to find her smiling at him.

"Don't worry about it for now." She added, sparing another spiteful glance in Lysandre's direction.

X simply nodded, still unable to uncoil the knot in his stomach, looking on bitterly as the people around him mourned the passing of… of this _monster_.

He looked down, shuffling his shiny black dress shoes uncomfortably.

All he wanted was to go home. To move on from this.

Was it really too much to ask for?

* * *

X thought it was ironic - yet oddly fitting - for his burial to be within the grounds of the Parfum Palace.

The palace was a beautiful, three century year-old marvel from a time when kings ruled, and peasants simply followed. It was a stark reminder to Lysandre of power and greed humanity so disgustingly lusted for. If anything, he would have it torn down. Burned, even.

Yet, it would serve as his final resting place.

"I would never have expected him to have pulled something like that," an older woman next to X admitted solemnly.

He looked up, one Diantha of the Pokemon League having taken up the spot next to him, breaking his train of thought. He wondered how she had been able to be standing for so long in those heels. They looked awfully painful.

"I guess I was naive in a way for not seeing the signs earlier, right?" She asked, the hem of her black skirt flowing gently in the wind.

X was confused. Why was she asking him?

"I don't-"

"I'm sorry, that's such a stupid question to ask." She admitted sheepishly, waving the question away. "How are you holding up? I heard from Sycamore you and your friends turned down a celebration to be held in your name? Why so?"

X took a deep breath, visibly annoyed with the older woman's question. "Same thing we told the professor: we have more important things to tend to." He murmured, loosening his tie.

"Your friends deserve recognition for your actions, especially after all you went through."

"Why would it matter? People don't care regardless, just look at them, " X replied in a hushed tone, eyeing just about everyone except his friends with distaste.

"At the end of the day we just did what we had to do. Team Flare is gone, yet nobody even seems to be aware they were _that_ close to death," X said. "I'm just glad we can all go back to living our lives out normally again."

"You all will always have my thanks, X. As champion of the Kalos region, I will always be grateful for what you and your friends went through to stop Lysandre." Diantha smiled down at the young boy. "And I know that may still feel unsatisfactory for you, but I assure you, that what you did here will be immortalized, if not now, then in the future."

X rubbed the back of his head, a bit surprised of the champion's expressed gratitude - yet he welcomed it nonetheless.

"I just want to know _why_ we even bother mourning, knowing what he was capable of doing."

"I wouldn't call this mourning, no. Moreso, learning. A lesson, that perhaps, taking things as far as Lysandre did won't end well for anyone involved..." She paused, taking one last glance at the dull casket in which the aforementioned man's corpse lay. "...especially the perpetrator themselves."

Well, a short course in philosophy was definitely the last thing X would have expected from the funeral of the man who had made his life miserable in such a short amount of time. Though, he felt Diantha had a point.

Or maybe Lysandre had a point.

"It was nice talking to you again, X," the female champion suddenly said after a brief period of silence, "but I must head out it. Please pass my gratitude on to your friends, yes?"

X simply nodded, paying little attention as the champion bowed before departing from their small space.

"Wait, champion," X started.

Diantha stopped, turning back to face the young boy. "Yes?"

"I just want you to know, you weren't naive for not seeing the signs in Lysandre. Besides, it wasn't just us who stopped him. We wouldn't have been able to without your help," X said, smiling subtly.

Diantha returned the smile, nodding in acknowledgement. "Thank you, X. Good luck."

With that, X was alone once again. He kicked his shoes together, their shine gone under a layer of dust and dirt. He looked over to where Y was standing with the rest of his friends - Tierno, Shauna and Trevor - finally deciding to make his way over to them.

He wasn't sure if his head would allow him any sleep that night, though, he was sure he'd find solace with his Y and his friends.


End file.
